


Not Quite Right

by r_e



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Flowers is a Creepy Fuck, Gaslighting, Gen, Metastability, Nightmares, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_e/pseuds/r_e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Prompt: Alpha Church having nightmares about the A.I experiments he no longer remembers.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Private Leonard Church is having nightmares, and nothing's quite right. Flowers is fortunately there to intervene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Right

**Author's Note:**

> It went a little sideways, and a bit differently angsty than prompter was probably expecting, but that’s the nature of the thing, right?

Private Leonard Church craned his neck to take in all of Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha. This couldn’t really be… all there was to it? It wasn’t much worse than th– his last assignment, just unbearably hot instead of unbearably cold. He rechecked his reassigning order from command one last time.

“Due to suspected Red Army activity we’re sending you… yadda yadda psychological toll we don’t want you anywhere that actually matters, report for duty to Captain Butch Flowers.”

“Now that’s a glum outlook!”

Church did not startle when his new CO’s too-chipper voice boomed from behind him. He did not jump, he did not almost drop both his orders and his sidearm, and he most definitely did _not_ shriek even a little bit. What he did do, was turn around slowly and let out a very controlled exhale when he saw the man he’d been instructed to find a whole half head shorter than him with tea– aqua plating. “You’re Captain Flowers?” Church asked, wincing. “Sir?”

“That’s right!” He stepped closer. “Now, Private, is that a very nice way to talk about your orders? From _Command_?”

“No, sir,” he responded, posture forming to something more respectfully alert. He got the impression that Flowers was smiling at him.

“Great start, Private. Church, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir!” Quicker to respond this time, Church gave himself a mental pat on the back for shaping up quickly.

“Well, Church, I simply must insist you stop with all this ‘sir’ nonsense! I don’t want you to feel like I’m above you, despite the chain of command.” There was something a little off in more than just the order, and he found himself fighting the urge to take a step back or twenty. If he aimed just right he could sprint into the base…

“Yes, s-Flowers?” he tried.

“Another good job for the new lad!” Flowers exclaimed. “Now why don’t you follow me, and we can get you settled in.”

* * *

He tried to look around. His head wouldn’t move, and Church wasn’t sure he had ever been this tired. He compromised and settled for just squinting out past his visor… except it wasn’t past a visor? He was certain he was wearing armor, though, he could see it peripherally looking down. Around him there were definitely the walls of a ship, yellowed grey of space-flight standard steel. Why was he on a ship? How could have been on a ship– Oh, right. Redeployment after the Sidewinder incident. The thought came to him, ringing with a sense of, _of course_ , but with a twinge of something foreign

Workers bustled past in a fast moving clot, and he didn’t need to move out of their way they just sort of went through where he was. This wasn’t quite right, but it wasn’t quite wrong either. A mechanized voice rang out,

“Preparing for unplanned atmospheric entry.”

That snapped Church out of whatever physical stupor plagued him. Quickly, he made for a viewing deck. Unfortunately, there was neither map nor intuitive floor plan, so Church rounded the corner into some kind of storage wing just in time to be shoved aside while a suit of black power armor barreled past him and into the corridor he had come from.

Something familiar, at that, though he couldn’t quite place it. Around him, the ships walls melted until he was suspended above but plummeting toward an icy landscape. Sidewinder, he realized, foreign twang softer this time. Church shook his head, wondering why that figure had seemed jarringly familiar. Texas, the same strain of reason supplied.

* * *

His first morning in Blood Gulch was about as pleasant as the name of the place implied. The dream still fresh in his mind, he heaved himself out to the common areas of the base to get his first actual work assignment. Flowers had let him go straight to bed after getting settled, with a promise of orders in the morning after he’d gotten a “Right proper rest! None of that tossing and turning and staying awake staring at the ceiling!” as his CO insisted. Thinking of, in the major common area there was the other Private scarfing down something that was no doubt meant to resemble actual food. In the far corner of the room, Captain Flowers stood motionless.

“Hey dude,” the Private called through his breakfast. Really it sounded more like “hfey-doo”, but Church had picked up enough after Tex threw a party to decipher it.

“Private Church,” he introduced himself, looking askance at the corner. The soldier nodded.

“Don’t mind the captain, he’s always this skeezy,” he offered after swallowing. He muttered something, and added, “I’m Tucker.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about someone who’s in the room with you, Private,” Flowers’ voice rang out, as his posture suddenly loosened. This time, Church also definitely didn’t jump. Or shriek. Tucker did, though, covering with nervous laughter.

“G-good morning, Flowers, didn’t see you there,” he rattled off, taking another bite to shut himself up. It seemed decorum wasn’t quite dead.

“And a good morning to you, boys!” Flowers shot back, deliberately cheery and disarming rather than chilling. “Have a restful sleep, Church? I do want you at your best on your first day, after all.”

“Fine, s–” he caught himself. “Just some funky dreams about the troop transport,” he added.

“What troop transport?” Flowers asked, too soft to be a demand. “You can walk here, from Sidewinder. In fact, you did!” he pointed out. Church hesitated, trying to reconcile that with what he’d seen the night before– no. What he’d _dreamed_ the night before.

“My ride here in the first place,” he covered, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck.

“Oh, gotta love deployment,” Flowers reminisced. “Why don’t you come out back and we’ll get you kitted out with the best of our meagre armory?” Church nodded, and followed him out of the room with a wave to Tucker. There was something familiar about the man under the aqua paint, the way he spoke and moved. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was sure he’d met the same disarming cheer somewhere before.

* * *

“Hello? Did it go well this time? I’m… I’m sorry, you’re not giving me enough to work with, it’s as good as I can make it!” he yelled out from the room. It was always so cold now. Now? Not now. It was always so cold.

“No, Alpha, it did not 'go well’. You need to do better.”

Thrashing in confusion, Alpha looked at his hands. No, he looked at the representation of his hands. He didn’t have hands. He didn’t have eyes, he can’t have looked at his hands.

“I, I’m trying! I’m doing the best I can!”

“It’s not enough, Alpha. You already lost us Agent North Dakota and Agent Carolina. Keep this up, and you’ll be useless to the Project.”

“I’m sorry!” he screamed, the words tearing from his throat that wasn’t his throat it couldn’t be his throat he was… what was he? He wasn’t anything, he couldn’t be anything now. Around him, the cold scape dissolved with that voice so familiar echoing _not enough, never enough_.

* * *

It was the fourth day in Blood Gulch. Due to a lack of Red activity, Flowers had taken them both out for target practice the last two afternoons of his relaxed duty roster. Some scouting in the morning, maybe once in the evening, a few drills just after midday, and an episode of team building were all that the captain seemed to see the need for in a day. Not that Church was complaining, and neither was Tucker for that matter, it just seemed like yet another let-him-rest-it-off. Sidewinder wasn’t that big a deal! He was fine, he didn’t need all this recuperation bullshit.

“Good shots! With that aim you must be the ire of every darts game in the pub!” Flowers insisted, as both Privates lowered their weapons.

Tucker let out a none too rare iteration of his catch phrase while looking down range at his target. It wasn’t the worst round of bullet holes, but wasn’t the best. Church looked at his own target. Now that was easily the worst. The corner of a different catch phrase tugged at Church’s mind, and he swayed briefly, the strains of something _horrible_ echoing around his mind. Fruit and plastic straws and pain and pain and confusion and he’d done something, oh god, what–

“Are you okay, Private?” Flowers was asking him.

“Fine,” Church mumbled, regaining his balance. Obviously not loud enough, as he felt his CO come up behind him.

“Are you really sure about that, Private?” Church almost shook his head, then paused. He almost recognized where he knew Flowers from, so close, he nearly had it.

“Actually, Flowers, can I talk to you for a sec?” Church tried not to fidget. Almost fainting from some kind of memory wasn’t good. The key was not showing it too much, though, he’d heard of what could happen to trauma survivors. Sidewinder hadn’t been pretty, he thought, again as if it were supplied rather than generated.

“Of course, Church. I can always make time for my men.” Flowers looked over to Tucker. The Private turned to face him rather than down the improvised targeting range. “Keep on 'till 15 00!” Tucker nodded. Satisfied, Flowers beckoned Church to follow him to the shade of the base.

“What can I, do for you?” Church shrugged.

“Do you know anything about Freelancers? My memory’s still a little foggy, Sidewinder…” he trailed off. That was definitely his own this time, but something still tasted wrong with that part of his story.

“That’s all-right, I understand. After what you went through it must be hard to get everything straight.” If it wasn’t for the Captain’s faceplate, Church was sure he’d see the widest and most disconcerting smile he’d ever encountered. Since the last time, at least. He got that feeling a lot from Flowers. Thank God for combat safety precautions. “Are you sure you’re fine there, son?”

Church shook himself out of the thought he’d been lost in. “Yes, sir, er, Flowers, sorry.”

“Now I already told you, it’s all fine. As I was saying, Freelancers were part of a project” Church huffed. Project Freelancer, he corrected silently. It sounds stupid if you say it backwards. “…best fighters in this war.” This great war, Church fixed again. “Now they contract out to Red and Blue bases in their times of need!” Flowers finished, unabashed by Church’s internal critique.

He nodded in understanding, praying he’d gotten enough of that. “Like Tex.”

“You bet, Private. She was a damn fine one, too. In fact, I’m nigh certain she was the best.”

“Is that why we were… is that why me and her, why she…” Church struggled for his question, the hardest part of his story to figure out let alone repeat. The carnage that was around, but not around, happening but already happened, didn’t lend itself well to be talked about.

“Was the one contracted to go for you and your pals at Sidewinder?” Flowers helpfully supplied. Church found himself nodding again, even as Flowers started to sound like that whisper in his head. It still didn’t seem quite right. Tex wasn’t trying to kill him, there she was getting away from something, he thought. That didn’t seem right, either, but it was closer.

“Why do you know about Freelancers, anyway? Did they brief you on that when you got to be a Blue Commander?”

“That’s right! Keep up that spot-on guess work and one of these days you’ll be calling more shots than a lucky rabbit!”

Okay, now that was something that didn’t make sense.

That night, if it was really night when the day never ended, he stayed up glaring at the poorly crafted cement roofing of the barracks until the last creaks of Tucker’s pissing and moaning had tapered off. The Captain was content to keep watch again due to his sleeping custom, but kept insisting one of them stay up for half of it, just in case of Red activity. What Red activity? There never was any Red activity. He’d really been benched this time. Not a lot of wiggle-room when your girlfriend–wife? Had they ever been married? Were they ever involved? When your associate murdered everyone except you.

Now, how did Flowers know Tex?

* * *

“Director, please what’s going on?” he pleaded. No one ever told him anything good, not anymore, but he had to know.

“There was another incident. Security failed.”

“I gave you the schematics, they’re just- they’re too complex, I just need more time to work on them!” Church’s voice broke. He was useless, he couldn’t figure out even these simple puzzles, why did they keep asking him for the solutions when they knew all he’d do was fail. He couldn’t even get angry at them any more, even for pretending they had faith in him.

“It’s not your fault.”

“How can you say that, of course it is!” It was always his fault, he just had to be better, but he couldn’t reach that far. “Was anybody hurt?”

“I am sorry. Yes. Washington and another died.”

“Agh, who?”

“I can’t say.”

“Who? Who died?” Please, no. Please, oh God, no, not–

“Agent Texas.”

“No! Oh- oh my God, no!”

* * *

Church woke in what felt like it had to be a cold sweat, but it wasn’t. His armor clanked against itself, and he felt the contours of the bed, not the plating. He thought he felt. He might not feel it, though, it seemed so distant yet so present. Only his eyes and ears seemed to make any sense any more, as he sat up trying not to think about the pressure through his arms and the sensations on his palms.

That one settled it. Something fishy was going on. Texas was important, she’d tried to save him even after… after what? How could she save him, she was dead? It was his fault and she was dead why couldn’t he just _remember_? She was… she is… dead.

She’s dead, she was at Sidewinder which didn’t go the way Command told him but that didn’t matter because now he was here and she isn’t dead, but she was dead, but he couldn’t remember the how of it. Or why. He felt so, so tired. He didn’t care, he didn’t know what, what was real, who to go to… but he had to go to someone. He had to find out why, and how, he just needed to. To hell with remembering why.

Church checked the time. He had another hour until Flowers would finish his watch.

“Captain, permission to speak freely?” Church asked from the ramp to the top of the base. Flowers didn’t turn to face him, standing on the edge facing into the canyon.

“I’d like you think you boys always have permission to speak freely with me, I do want us to be friends.”

“Friends is a little funny, coming from you, sir.”

“I beg your pardon, Private?” Flowers had the gall to actually sound hurt. “I’m hurt,” he added, show _and_ tell, Church supposed.

“I mean, you’ve clearly been briefed about fucking 'Sidewinder’” Church spat. At this, Flowers did move to face him.

“Of course, Command just wanted to make sure your commanding officer was ready to help you settle in to the swing of things. They triple-checked my understanding of the situation!”

“Situation? Situation?!” he scoffed. “Let me tell you about my situation!”

“Please, do!” Flowers insisted, somehow still. Smiling. His tone said it all.

“I wasn’t at Sidewinder, was I? I was somewhere else! It was cold, but that’s why they picked god-damn Sidewinder to tell me, wasn’t it? So it would be more _believable!_ ” Yup, there was his voice screeching it up an octave. “There’s nothing more believable than 'rogue agent kills an entire team except this one random guy’ they could have thought of? There was a crashing ship, and it was so fucking cold you god-damn fucking bastards! Agent Texas wasn’t trying to kill me, she’s my- my- I don’t know what she is but she was trying to save me. From something you can give me a little suggestion to ignore but I promise I won’t be listening forever; it’s already wearing off! Take that!”

“Oh, Church, I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Flowers said evenly, positive as ever. If he wanted to talk Church down he’d have to try a hell of a lot harder than that.

“Through what?!”

“This! Having to listen to what your mind is telling you, to explain what you didn’t want to accept.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Language, Private, I know you’re not feeling your best but that’s no reason to take it out on your superior officer.”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

Flowers sighed. “Given that you and Texas were, what are the kids calling it these days? Hip-tied and feeling it? It’s going to be a challenge to get over her beating a man to death with his own skull right in front of you, let alone leaving you alive,” he paused. Church made to break in, but Flowers held up a hand and cocked his helmet. Fuming, Church remained silent. Flowers continued. “Please, don’t worry Church, with a little hard work and determination you’ll be able to understand.”

“Understand what, that you’re lying to me?” he spat. Flowers sighed again, evoking a disappointed father figure. Which, given some of the man’s professed wishes, was not at all comforting.

“Church, please. Tell me when did you get to Sidewinder?”

“Three m–” Church’s body answered automatically before he caught himself and resisted. He could remember it, though. Cold, so cold, like he remembered. And he felt so isolated, as he remembered. “Three months ago.”

“That’s right. And you’d last seen Texas…?”

“A week before that.” He didn’t even fight it this time. It took so much work, and if he just let it, he could see them at that bar. They’d said their goodbyes, as much as they did, with her stealing twenty bucks to seed a hustle in the shadowed alley once they were done with their drinks.

“You remember her nicely?” Flowers prodded, and Church nodded. “That’s where your feelings of her saving you are coming from, Private. But please also remember, what happened at Sidewinder?”

“My CO started screaming bloody-murder, and…” the rest of the scene played out for him, memory distorted but present, still wrong but what else could it be? It’s not like they could implant something so specific, it was against so many laws.

Flowers nodded, the resignation melting off. “Feel better, Private?” he asked gently, smile in his voice edging to almost sincere. Church nodded. He couldn’t do anything else.

* * *

“Very good, Alpha.” Church’s rendering shrugged when the Director’s voice boomed in his simulation.

“Nothing you wouldn’t do,” he suggested, glancing at the leaderboard. It was so strange to see Carolina’s name on it, stranger still when he had to remember that he wasn’t her father. The Director was her father. All he had was an echo of Allison. Well. Not even that anymore. There she was on the leaderboard, too, Texas now, taken from him. Again. At least she was fine, though, Allison could always take care of herself.

“Well, maybe some things I wouldn’t do,” the Director amended. Church froze, and looked at him. Well, sort of looked at him. Looked up, really. Couldn’t see out of this unit very well.

“What?”

“That is just to say, Alpha, that some of your projections failed.”

“Which ones?” demanded Church. He’d run all of the numbers, some twice! And perfectly! There was no error in his reasoning, all the data checked out, what could possibly have gone wrong?

“The contingency for Agent York.” Oh no.

“Wait, you mean–”

“Agent York is deceased, Alpha. Killed in action. There your plan failed.”

No, oh no. That… was not good, that didn’t make sense. Church was sure he’d run the numbers right, and, what had the Director said? Something he wouldn’t have done? “What do you mean some you wouldn’t do the same thing, I’m _you_ , remember?”

“No longer is that the case, Alpha.”

With that, Alpha’s reason and world shattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Want something entirely unrelated? Find me on tumblr under the same name.


End file.
